


The Legend of the Browncoats and the Shining City

by anna_bird, sasha_feather



Category: Firefly, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crossover, Multi, Slash, Threesome, dopplecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-09
Updated: 2009-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-04 07:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_bird/pseuds/anna_bird, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_feather/pseuds/sasha_feather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew of <i>Serenity</i> arrives in Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Slight Irrevocable Detour

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: SGA Season 5 casting. Takes places before 5x14 "Prodigal". Firefly/Serenity: Through the movie.  
> Beta by were_duck and fullygoldy.

She holds the thing gingerly, the metal cold in her hand. She had to pull one of the dessicated corpses off to fully get at it, and now she wishes she hadn't picked it up. It's wide and delicate, a dull silver cuff that swoops around in a shape like an 8.

Her radio crackles. "Zoe? You copy?"

"Yessir. There's no doubt. These were Reavers. But, sir..."

"C'mon, girl, talk to me."

A weapon? Badly designed jewelry? Handcuffs? Wash hadn't liked metal, but he'd let her do things with cloth..._None of that now_, Zoe thinks, and pushes her mind away, as far away as she can. She puts her hands through the double cuff, and it suddenly glows bright and bluish in the dim, dead ship. Quick as a snake she flips it off her hands and the cuff thunks onto another withered body. The glow dwindles and disappears as quickly as it appeared.

"Now _that_ ain't right," she whispers.

"Hold's gone, blown out. Waste of gorram time." Jayne pushes past her and leans down. "Lemme see that."

Zoe pulls her gun just as Jayne's fingers touch the metal. The cuff lights up with a burst of blue-green intensity that makes her flinch away.

On the deck of _Serenity_, Mal stares at the radio in his hand. "What? Zoe, say again." There is a unsatisfying amount of crackling. "Zoe. Tell me what you're looking at." River stops her restless spinning in the co-pilot's chair.

Mal feels River's eyes on him, that unsettling direct stare. "Bellerophon went blind, you know. But I could be Eos," River says. "What about my lovers? And who would be Nyx?" Mal doesn't have time to ask what the hell she's babblin' about, because there is light burning a blazing circle in the formerly black space surrounding _Serenity_ and the derelict ship.

The light is everywhere, blasting through the windows and bleaching River's face. It undulates around them, around the ships like a living, swirling pool, and Mal begins to think he sees depth, a deep pocket in the light that stretches infinitely toward...well, infinity. Mal takes a deep breath, and raises the radio.

"Zoe! What in -"

River laughs. And then _Serenity_ blinks into the light.

\---

"Huh. That's funny. Sensors are picking up a ship - no, wait, two ships in orbit above us."

"The Daedalus?" Woolsey asks patiently, because someone has to, and he's starting to get used to being the one who asks the stupid questions. He is aware Dr. McKay has been calling him Dick Obvious behind his back. A lesser man might use his considerable power as leader of the Atlantis Expedition to make sure Dr. McKay never again received advance notice from the mess about brownie days. A _much_ lesser man. No matter.

"No sir. It's - they're –" Chuck is at a loss for words. "I've never seen anything like them."

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Woolsey says, and Chuck has the decency to look sheepish. "Hail them."

"Unidentified vessel, this is Atlantis, please respond." Silence. Chuck repeats the hail.

"Atlantis, this is the Firefly-transport _Serenity_. Request confirmation of current coordinates."

Woolsey nods once at Chuck, who reads the coordinates out. He thumbs his own headset on, and tells Major Lorne to get a Jumper in the air.

"Sir, I'm unable to establish communications with the other ship. Scanning for lifeforms." Chuck types and types. "Sir. You might want to come look at this."

Woolsey takes one look and gets back on the horn to Lorne. "Major. Until we get confirmation from the second ship, please treat with extreme caution. I want a science-medical team ready, hazmat suits required, with fully armed escort."

The unknown voice over the frequency interrupts him. "Listen, whoever this is - I've got two people aboard that ship there, and I've lost contact with them. I'm telling you this 'cause I don't want you to get all bothered when we start moving toward them."

"All right," Woolsey says. "Likewise, I hope you'll take advantage of our assistance. We have a team heading toward your location now."

\---

At first he thinks it's the guns, although Lorne ordered everyone on his team to stand down. But later, he thinks that it was their uniforms that made the aliens nervous. Luckily nobody drew down on anyone, the initial meeting went pretty peacefully, and in no time Lorne's back in the jumper with Captain Reynolds riding shotgun. They dock with the drifting vessel and (according to Woolsey's orders, although Mal protests that there's life support) everyone dons a hazmat suit. Lorne's thankful for this as soon as he steps through the airlock into the cargo bay, and into a slippery puddle of clotting blood.

"Sweet Jesus." There's blood everywhere, delicate trails like tracks from fingers, old brown smears on the walls. There are bodies - bodies that look human - hanging from the ceiling. Most of them are missing long patches of flesh, or limbs, or faces. Lorne wills his stomach down, and feels a little better when he hears Robinson take one for the team and lose his lunch in his suit. They step out into the first corridor, and more alarm bells start jangling, a familiar tune this time. Lorne kneels by the first crumbling body and opens the man's - the _thing's_ shirt. His suspicions are confirmed: there's a gaping hole in the chest. Wraith.

"You sure this ship is secure, Captain?"

"Well, if it ain't, I expect I've got more cause for worry than you. I got crew members on here."

But Captain Reynolds' radio crackles into life as they pad through the corpse-strewn corridor.

"Sir? You copy?"

"Zoe. What happened?"

They make their way through the ship until they find the missing two: a hulking guy who could give Ronon a run for his money in personal artillery, and a gorgeous cold-eyed woman who holds a small sawed-off in one hand and a bundle of cloth in the other.

Lorne motions for his team to stay cool, and grins into the guns as disarmingly as he knows how. "Welcome to the Pegasus galaxy, folks."

\---

They leave the Reaver derelict to orbit indefinitely. Zoe stalks up to the bridge with Mal and watches as they spiral down toward a seemingly endless ocean, so much bigger than Bellerophon's. The city - Atlantis, the military man said - is a bright star on the water. Despite her trepidation, she can't help staring as Mal sets Serenity down on one of the long stretches of pier.

This seems like an Alliance world, clean and bright and well-ordered, and that sets Zoe on edge. These strangers haven't asked for their weapons, and it's reassuring to feel each one against her body, the gun in her holster, the knives at her ankles and belt. The faces around her are curious, a bit wary, most of all uncertain: but they aren't hostile. The uniforms and weapons are unfamiliar but the people seem ordinary: they introduce themselves, shake her hand, say ordinary things. Zoe relaxes a fraction.

The city smells like saltwater and it feels unexpectedly old, maybe older than anywhere she's ever been. She breathes deep, and lets herself think of Wash for just a moment, imagining his smile, his wonder at seeing this place.

The balding man, the leader Woolsey, wants them all to go to the infirmary. Something about policy and rules. Simon's standing next to Zoe, River close beside him. Zoe can nearly feel the doctor's anger, well-contained though it is.

"Everyone on this crew is in good health, I can assure you," he says. "We won't bring disease among your people."

"That may well be so," Woolsey says. "But we have these rules for a reason, and they are meant to protect your people as well as ours."

Zoe glances towards Mal, and he seems inclined to go along. She sees Mal look around at each one of his crew, his gaze lingering on River and Simon. "May we meet your doctors, first?"

"Certainly," says Woolsey.

\-----

It's turning out to be a surreal kind of day. John's expected to be well insulated against surreal kinds of days by his fifth year in the Pegasus galaxy, but the alternate-universe days still throw him for a loop.

He hasn't seen McKay this pleased since they exposed the phony occultists on MX0-923 (the planet with the swamps). Rodney's bouncing on his toes next to John and Woolsey and the folks from the strange bulbous little ship Serenity. The group is composed of seven gorgeous people who apparently hail not only from another universe, but also from one where humans speak a hybrid of Clint Eastwood and Chinese. They even wear clothes to match.

It's impressive, though, how none of them (well, maybe the dark haired guy who keeps herding two of the women behind him) seems even mildly intimidated by the city, the infirmary with all the weird Ancient medical shit, and marines lurking in every corner with P-90s dangling at the ready.

Still, John doesn't like it. He can't think of one good thing that came from an alternate universe (except maybe the first interested golf partner he'd had in forever) and he's got an uncomfortably familiar sense of foreboding; the one he always gets when he, for no discernible reason, is right and everyone else is wrong. He allows himself to admire Rodney's ass for approximately five-sixths of a second, and then he gets back to business. He sidles up to Rodney and elbows him in the ribs.

"Ow!"

Rodney's belly is a lot less flabby these days, and John tries not to linger on that thought. "Just trying to get your attention." John steps closer and, without taking his eyes off the visitors, whispers, "I've got a –"

"Bad feeling about this? Need I remind you, Sheppard, that we've stuffed the corridors full of so many military personnel I could barely fit Radek through to run some incredibly necessary tests? _Radek_. And they've barely said anything yet. There's so much we could learn from them, I mean, look at their _ship_, it's so _different_, who knows what kind of power source –"

"I've got eyes, McKay. Anyway. I've got instincts for this kind of thing. When things - er, circumstances aren't exactly what they seem?"

McKay waves a "yeah yeah, not listening" hand at him and hurries behind Woolsey and the visitors. John fingers his sidearm and watches him bombard the pretty dark-haired man with questions. The girl beside him turns and stares at John, and the uneasy feeling gets worse. Then Teyla stops short in front of him. John narrowly avoids knocking into her.

"What is it?" She turns to him, and _shit_, she's onto something, too: her eyes are huge, her nostrils flared. "Jesus, Teyla. Talk to me."

"I sense … it is faint, but… John, I sense something. Wraith."

Looks like the infirmary trip's out for him. He runs to intercept Woolsey.

\---

Inara is accustomed to these body inspections-- cold tables and needles were apparently common to all universes—and she's not unhappy with the facilities or the staff. When they met Dr. Keller a few hours ago, nearly all of the crew took a step back, or gasped. Not Inara. She stepped forward and extended her hand. She might've curtsied, but everyone here seemed obsessed with handshakes and salutes. "Dr. Keller, so nice to meet you. Forgive my friends their rudeness. It seems you have a passing resemblance to our Kaylee."

"I don't see any resemblance," Jayne muttered. Mal glared at him. "What? I don't. Kaylee's a lot prettier."

If the crew continues to be so baffled and rude, which she very much expects, Inara will simply have to pick up the slack. It wouldn't be the first time. She also expects to have no problems with most of the people here, all of whom have been polite and respectful. _Serenity's_ crew, on the other hand, might tax all of her skills. This again, is nothing new. Although Mal did introduce her as "our Ambassador, Inara Serra" without a hint of the old sarcasm; Mal being reluctant to call her a whore in front of strangers can only be the unexpected benefit of a new and strange universe.

She likes the city quite well, and she wonders about the people who could build such a place. The first time she sees the Stargate open, she gasps aloud and feels gooseflesh rise on her arms. It's so, so _sexual_. And gorgeous. Inara doesn't know how long they'll be here, but she fully intends to enjoy her stay.

\---

She's been better, so much better, Mal let her fly the ship on a lot of routine salvage missions, and it was sad but quiet and she thought, Simon thought she was back to herself, _my little sister, she's my little sister again_, but this 'verse, this 'verse is so noisy. Simon looks powerful irate with the two Kaylees and she won't say anything.

She senses the city, of course. A clear, clinical voice, like a doctor, issues gentle commands from a central pulse of power, a glowing stained-glass cylinder of infinite probability. She senses the people who hurry around following instructions but without hearing the city's voice, and she feels sorry for them, even for the wild-haired man in black (oh oh oh he made her think of the Shepherd perhaps he was a Shepherd, too?) who made the city light up, and the scientist who yells and flails his arms and types into keyboards like he's trying to play a thunderous concerto – they can't feel the city like she can.

She senses something else, too. It's something insidious and crawling, like dark smoke in her brain, like worms or bugs or no end of ill thoughts. It feels far away and yet right behind her.

She fumbles into Ronon in the corridor, and very nearly kicks down a wall because this is obviously the 'verse of Too Much Hair.

\---

Ronon likes these people. He can tell Sheppard's suspicious, and what Sheppard says he'll generally follow, but he suspects that this time Sheppard will come around. Even McKay is falling over himself with the doctor; but maybe he's just missing Beckett, and really, McKay's the team's worst judge of character. Anyway. Most the people he's met from other universes have been interesting, at least, and these are more interesting than usual. Especially the women. He picks out Kaylee first, of course, because she looks like Keller but she also looks a lot like Melena. And so he looks at her, and then looks away. He picks out Zoe next. She reminds him of someone he knew in the Satedan Army, a woman he admired from afar, a woman he was too shy to talk to. Maybe he'll try talking to this one. She looks more Satedan than anyone else on Atlantis.

He sits down with her in the mess hall, which he's noticed is the thing to do here, the socially acceptable manner of meeting new people. (And, with a familiar pang, he thinks of Elizabeth, of a long-ago chess game.) Zoe is sitting with Inara. Ronon guesses they've got their warriors chaperoning—or guarding—their non-warriors.

"Specialist Ronon Dex," he says with a nod.

They introduce themselves, even though he already knows all their names.

"You should try these paffa fruits." Ronon has a second plate, full of nothing but paffa fruits, and he pushes it to the center of the table. "Not if you're allergic to citrus, though."

Zoe and Inara each take one. Juice dribbles down Zoe's chin as she eats. He wants to ask her about her guns, but it's too soon, it will seem rude. He'll wait a day, and then invite her to the shooting range.

\---

Meanwhile, in the control room:

"You got anything yet?"

"Nothing. There's nothing out there except the derelict vessel, which has no life signs."

"Scan again, Radek." Lorne's report of Wraith feeding is disturbing, especially as it's taken place in a ship from god knows where or when. On the immediate threat, the Marines swept the ship and found nothing except more corpses. But Teyla's senses are usually right on, and it's not like the Wraith haven't hidden from a life-signs sweep before. John's jumpy, and Radek isn't giving him anything helpful. He tries (unsuccessfully) not to hover.

"It would be helpful, Colonel, if Doctor McKay were here to assist me."

"Yeah." John taps his earpiece. "Doctor McKay, would you please respond? Paging Doctor McKay."

Rodney's voice is irritated and extra loud. "Har de har. Doctor Tam is being kind enough to explain the latest technology in brain scanners, what's so important?"

"What's so important about brain scanners another universe away? I thought medical science was hoodoo voodoo." John flashes on the pretty boy, Simon, and stuffs away murderous thoughts.

"Erm. Ahem. What do you _want_?"

"Teyla senses a Wraith presence."

"It is very faint," Teyla amends, crossing her arms over her belly.

"Well why didn't you say so in the first place," Rodney says. "I'll be right there."

\---

Of course they weren't satisfied with their basic tests, with his own copies of River's brain scans. Of course they want to study her. Simon even understands: if he were in Dr. Keller's shoes, he would do the same. It was just that everyone always looks at River and sees what they want to see: a weapon, a tool, a case study. They do not see a person.

And so he finds himself arguing with this strange doctor, the one who looks a lot like Kaylee but is clearly incredibly different. It's a strange feeling, and he is careful not to touch her, and not to let her touch him. He holds himself apart, crosses his arms over his chest, and refuses to let her run her tests.

"Doctor. You do not understand the trauma that my sister has been through. She has suffered enough at the hands of so-called scientists. I let you run your tests. I let you see my research. That will be the extent of our cooperation in this matter. If you touch her without her consent, even one scan, we will leave. And you will not be able to stop us."

Something in his tone, or his body language, or the words themselves, gets through to her. Keller stiffens, her eyes widening. "I—I didn't mean— I didn't mean any harm."

"I know. But you would have caused harm unknowingly."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Tam. Really, I am."

He nods. "Thank you." He takes a breath, shifts his tense body into a more comfortable posture. "I'd be interested in seeing more of your facilities, if you have the time to show me."

She smiles, tentatively, and motions for him to follow.

\---

Keller pretends everything is fine. That's the way they're supposed to react out here, aren't they? Rodney is always saying she has to expect the unexpected, always be on her guard, but stay relaxed so she can react to danger (as payback for all the speechifying, she stuck him with a judiciously-timed inoculation) and she should act as if nothing is wrong. After all, he's come face to face with a double before. He understands, right?

She shows Dr. Tam the Ancient scanners. He seems unimpressed, but she's got his number even if he is from another universe. But. There's something quite - appealing about him. She wonders if he would like to have dinner. Or maybe a beer. Unless he's with that Kaylee girl, which would be perfectly acceptable.

\---

Mal isn't quite sure what it is he's supposed to do here. Ain't nothing in the way of salvage, least not like he's used to. Serenity's cooling her heels on the east pier – not that anyone's been complaining. Zoe and Jayne are doing target practice with Ronon; Simon is switching off badgering the doctors and the scientists, while River…well, he doesn't rightly know where River is. Teyla Emmagen and Inara seem to be getting along well. Strange. Mal pegged Teyla as a Pegasus ringer for Zoe at first glance – hell, she's powerful fast with guns, knives and sticks; and she has a kid, too! He hears the story of Kanaan and wonders if the comparison runs too close.

Kaylee is happy as a pig in an acorn patch; she's fixing up the coolant system with scraps cadged from the two doctors. The day after they land, Mal gives the military commander a tour of the ship. Though it takes him a bit to loosen up around a military man, the man's a pilot, and soon they're discussing turbulence and boosters and just how exactly do those nacelles rotate, and then they're planning test flights. Mal takes him back along the corridors and through the mess to the engine room, and marvels at how Sheppard can show such interest in a Firefly when he's got the run of a flying city and his own shiny little fleet of spanking-new spaceships.

There's a dull, rhythmic thumping coming from the engine room. Mal curses. "Kaylee? Tell me you haven't fixed my ship just to break her again." Sheppard cocks his head.

There's a whole lot of rustling and thumping, and then Kaylee hollers back, "Everything's fine, Cap'n. What're you doing here?"

"Do I need a reason to be on my own ship?"

"Well…no. But you might give a girl some privacy once in a while."

_OH_. Mal chokes, and then chuckles. He slaps Sheppard on the back and leads him back into the comfortable clutter of the mess. "I think we might want to come back later. Kaylee forms attachments awful quick." A strange look crosses Sheppard's face. "I take it that's not a problem."

"Er, no," Sheppard says. "We've got some rules about military fraternization, but civilians are a-okay." He's watching the hatch leading to the engine room, as though Kaylee's going to waltz in with her latest. Jealous guy or control freak? Not even Kaylee could've struck up something with the Colonel _and_ someone else in two days…

Mal's not going to touch it. He's also not going to mention that he saw Kaylee with that yappy scientist this morning.

\---

The food's not bad, Jayne thinks. He tries out this thing they've told him is "the Ancient gene" in the labs, but they kick him out after he breaks some weird silver boxes. Left to his own devices, he stops by the infirmary and insinuates a little business at Keller, who blushes and busies herself with a computer screen.

What is there do around here, really? Maybe if he was a fishin' type of guy...he wanders around, gets lost, pretends he knows where he's going and glowers at the folks who look like they might try to stop him. Then a door whisks open, and Jayne's greeted by racks of guns, grenades, and a couple of guys with buzz cuts.

"Hel-LO," he says with a grin. So. Plenty of guns. And almost enough room in his quarters to finally set up his pieces just the way he likes 'em. Now he just needs somethin' to shoot.

\---

Woolsey calls them all in for a meeting once McKay and Zelenka have given him the news. It's a big meeting: Serenity's entire crew, Colonel Sheppard, his team, the rest of the senior staff. They fill up the conference room. He has Chuck drag in a few extra chairs and ensure that water pitchers and glasses are available. He's even prepped a handout with a map of the city and general city rules and customs. It looks like these people will be here a while.

"What do you mean, we can't go back?" Surprisingly, it's Jayne that's the first to react. Woolsey thinks for a moment that it may have been wiser to inform Mal first, and let him tell his crew. Well, too late now.

"It's not necessarily a matter of can't," Woolsey says. "What I'm saying is, we have no idea how this device works, other than it's activated by ATA gene carriers. The device that Ms. Washburn found aboard the derelict vessel is unlike anything we've seen before. Doctor McKay tells me that there is no apparent power source, to say nothing of controls. And without knowing more, it would be a hugely unnecessary risk to try activating it again."

"So we're stuck here?" Reynolds asks.

"For the time being, yes. We will do our best to make you feel at home."

Woolsey fully intends to let the science team go on playing with the loop device. He, on the other hand, plans on investigating just what the Wraith were doing in another universe - a universe that has produced a seasoned space captain who's never heard of "real goshdarn space vampires."


	2. Enthusiastic Integration

They are in the middle of a field full of gently-waving purplish blossoms. They are also surrounded by about twenty of the aliens. The aliens are large and they are very hairy and slavering and they have weepy red demonic eyes and Rodney's making a list of specific, painful ways to fucking _annihilate_ Sheppard when they get back to Atlantis, because Carson he could have trusted to think on his feet, but _who knows_ what this guy is even capable of? 

"Look, Doctor, it wasn't _my_ brilliant plan to stick the two non-military personnel together in one team!" 

"Please remind me what 'military' has to do with knowing how to protect yourself from bodily harm? You'll have to pardon me, Dr. McKay, but you don't seem very self-sufficient for a galactic explorer." 

"Yeah, well...that's why we have our teams," Rodney mutters. "Look, Ronon should be back any minute now. He said this planet is harmless, and he knows what he's talking about, OK?" 

Dr. Tam just looks slightly worried, which seems to be his usual expression. 

The creatures circle them. _Let's all try to integrate them into our daily routine,_ Rodney thinks wildly. _Let them figure out where they fit best._Well, fuck Woolsey with Ancient plumbing hardware – Woolsey, who has no idea of the concept of a team working together smoothly because of multiple missions - and years! _Years!_ Of _practice!_ Like it makes any sense to split them all up! 

He can smell the smoky, charred odor of their breath; it mingles jarringly with the thick scent of the flowers. He's surprised he can still smell the flowers with the beasts so close, and he reaches out and breaks off one of the stiff, waxy blooms. An oily blue powder spills out of the core and sticks to his palm. 

"What is that?" Dr. Tam asks. He steps closer and rubs some of the pollen with his thumb. 

The creatures have stopped closing in on them. If Rodney didn't know better, he'd think they looked – expectant, like they were getting comfortable. He pulls out the life signs detector and goes to town, analyzing the crumbly stuff. All around them, the flowers rustle and shiver. 

"Er. McKay?" Dr. Tam's hand is on Rodney's arm. 

The flowers have all turned in unison to face them. It is incongruous, the brilliant purple of the blooms, the red gaze of the beasts, the shivering stalks and the slight breeze. 

"Oh, for the love of Roddenberry," Rodney says, and then the air around them fills with a dense blue mist. He swears he can feel the blood leaving his brain (which, hello, he _needed_ to use right now) in favor of points south. His skin rapidly flushes, and his eyes track automatically to Dr. Tam's eyes. At least he's removed those stupid sunglasses. His pupils are wide and dark, his lips are parted. 

"This pollen... seems to be... a powerful aphrodisiac," Dr. Tam says between shallow breaths. 

"Gee, they don't call you a genius for nothing, do they?" Rodney manages weakly. Damn that man's hands, they're all over the place, strong and sure on Rodney's biceps, his shoulders, his back. One of those hands brushes Rodney's neck, cups his jaw, and he shudders. 

"Dr. Tam... we need to get out of here," Rodney says, not really believing it. 

"I think you should call me Simon." 

And then his lips close on Rodney's, and Rodney stops thinking for a while. 

\---

A few calculated stunner blasts from his weapon, and the aliens back off, widening their circle away from the purple flowers, making room for Ronon to approach. He might laugh, if he hadn't seen this before, if it hadn't happened to nearly every off-world team by now. Stupid flowers, they never even looked the same from one planet to another. He stops and wraps a cloth around the bottom half of his face, puts on a pair of nitrile gloves from his first aid kit, and wades into the flower field.

He found them in time—McKay and Tam are just sort of groping each other; it's like they don't have enough coherence to actually remove clothing. He grabs McKay by the back of his tac vest and pulls him off the doctor, pulling him upright. McKay blithely turns toward Ronon and tries to grope him, too, so Ronon holds his arm out straight, keeping McKay one long arm's-length away. He marches McKay out of the field, leaving Dr. Tam stumbling behind. Once they're a few hundred yards from the field, McKay's head seems to clear a bit. 

"Uh, Ronon? You can let go of me now, I think."

"Not yet, McKay. Keller says this stuff can stay in the bloodstream for two hours after exposure." 

_"Two hours of this?"_ 

He watches McKay press hard on his crotch, and now he can't _not_ laugh.

\---

Mal wants to beat something bloody after he visits a fresh-culled world with Sheppard and Jayne (the damn spookiness of the deserted village; the dull eyes of a single old man cowering under a table – disregarded as useless; the shriveled corpses of _children_ left by those _hun dan _vampires, left like empty wrappers. Hell, he knew he didn't understand Reavers and now they seem gorram preferable), he doesn't care what so long as his fists ache afterwards. Ain't no bars on Atlantis – at least, no acknowledged ones, so he can't go start a fight. Jayne looks like he might oblige, but wits aside odds ain't never been equal between them; also Jayne's stroking Vera like he might just forget about fists and go straight for the trigger. Sheppard gets a radio from Ronon and hightails it to the infirmary, so he's out. 

Instead, Mal goes to the gym. 

"—only ever used a bow," he hears as the door slides open. Inara and Teyla stand on the mat together. "There's not much need for anything apart from defensive hits in my profession." 

Teyla smiles. "You are doing fine. It is not often that I get a chance to start completely fresh with a student – almost everyone from the expedition has had previous training." She runs a hand up Inara's bare arm. "You have strength. I will show you how to wield it." 

And of course, Inara looks up at that moment and sees him. Her gaze is dark and heavy in the warm light, and dammit, she'll always have the jump on him, even though _he's_ been doing the eavesdropping. 

"Hello, Mal. A sudden interest in lessons?" 

How can two gals fight wearing such skimpy things? If he hadn't seen a barefoot and barelegged Teyla beat down some fresh-eyed boys without breaking a sweat, he wouldn't have believed it. 

"You are more than welcome to join us," Teyla says. 

He should go. He should really get the gorram hell out of there and go kick a plant or something. He could go get poked with needles by the doctor, so that maybe he could make things light up around here, the way Zoe and Jayne do. 

"Thanks," he says. "Everything's better with three, ain't it?" 

\---

Thank Christ that Simon Tam is on the other side of the infirmary, arguing with Keller and Kaylee about his restraints. 

"I can't treat you if you're going to grope me, Doctor Tam!" 

"Simon!" Kaylee sounds delighted. 

That means John gets to sit here with his Nintendo DS and watch Rodney pretend to sleep. He checks the clock. It's been five minutes. McKay's got serious focus. 

After ten minutes he scrapes his chair around and clears his throat. "So," he says to no one in particular but loud enough for half the medical staff to hear, "_sex_ pollen, huh, Spock?" 

Was that a muffled groan? He can't decide whether to be pleased or disgusted. It helps to avoid looking at the red marks on Rodney's neck.

\---

There is a lot of sexin' going on, River thinks. Maybe the people of the Pegasus galaxy are naturally repressed. Or maybe that's just what naturally happens, when two 'verses collide. Even Simon doesn't seem to be worrying about her as much.

  
Atlantis has lots of crawlspaces and hiding spots in which to secret herself. But even tucked away inside the ceiling at the very top of the central spire, she still can't get away from the crawling sense of evil. She feels it when she is alone in her small quarters next to Simon's room. She feels a bastardized version of the sense when she enters the gym to spar (gently carefully) with Teyla. 

"I am pleased you accepted my offer," Teyla says, but her smile is slightly stiff, she is alert and on guard, her mind says _no_ and _nothing here _when River sidles closer. Perhaps this is how Athosian women fight, with mental blocks? Teyla passes her a pair of sticks and leads her through a rash of exercises before they get down to the nitty gritty - and the first _thunk_ of wood against wood, her block against Teyla's lunge and it's _harder_ than normal because Teyla's not telegraphing, there's no clear mental picture of her advance. River's soon sweating through her dress, and grinning because it's hard, it's fun, and she thumps Teyla's arm and a bruise spreads quick and then she feels something good (hot pain satisfied) spark out from Teyla. 

Mal and Colonel Sheppard watch for a while and she feels the old sense of eyes picking at her, thirsty crows, and then the Sheppard says something about advice and Teyla kicks them both out to go play cards - each already thinking strategy and the other an easy mark - and then the stickplay relaxes into a dance, and they talk. 

"What training have you had?" 

"Ballet. It's a kind of dance," River explains as she ducks a fast swipe but doesn't quite evade a jab to the thigh, ow. 

"You are very graceful," Teyla allows. "But how did you learn to fight?"

"Ah." _Is she trying to distract me? Or is she truly interested?_ It's difficult, this unexpected interaction without any aid of intuition and prediction. It's hard to do the math without half an equation. She has become reactive. "I didn't learn. Not really." Truth, she has discovered, is also easiest when it is in reaction. 

Teyla looks skeptical. It takes a few more loops around the gymnasium before her face begins to change - if anything, it becomes more guarded, but truth is truth, and River can't stop her mouth, it's stuttering right along with each crack of the stick, with each step and twist and leap and as she says "experiment" and _weapon_ and "lab rat" she thinks oh yes she _thunk crack_ feels a sliver of something, of Teyla - but she then gets in a rap against Teyla's shin and they stop for a breather, sweaty and gasping. 

"I am sorry. I have had - that is, I understand," Teyla says, and for the first time River can definitely read her; the slow stream of sympathy and awareness, it's all there with them, bared in the golden light pouring through the windows. But then it's gone and River is an intruder again, fishing with the wrong bait in dammed waters. She wants to ask _why? What do you guard?_ 

Instead she says, "Thank you for the fight. It was fun." 

\---

After long long multitudinously long negotiations between Simon, Dr. Keller and Woolsey, they finally let her go off world with Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Rodney McKay, Teyla and Ronon Dex. Of course Simon wanted to go, he never wanted River to go anywhere alone, but Sheppard and Teyla spoke to him gently, and Simon relented. River's glad. 

She trails behind McKay and plays with the life-signs detector, narrowing its focus, re-writing its identification functionality to search for only bugs. She feels McKay watching her surreptitiously as he and Sheppard argue about energy readings. 

Ronon is also watching her. "McKay," he says. "Sure you should let her play with that?" 

"She's fine," Rodney says. "Leave her alone." He has a hard time looking at her straight on, and she can't help reading him, he's so much easier than Sheppard with his locked-down thoughts, and Teyla with her mental brick walls, and Ronon with his suspicions and scars – in McKay's head it's about numbers and figures, and Simon and Kaylee and Keller and more, and _hmmm_ what they did, and what he wants to do. River backs out of his crowded brain just in time to meet the Vedeenans, a group of six who dress like the colonists who tried to burn her. 

One, a slight blonde woman, comes forward and takes her hand. "I am Linara. We had a vision of you, River Tam. You are welcome here only this once, and then never again." 

Rodney squawks, John and Teyla protest, Ronon hoists his gun, but River can feel their minds opening toward her, welcoming her like no mind ever has, not even Simon's. 

"It's all right," she says, and links with them. 

\---

"I never really thought it was possible to die of humiliation," Simon confesses. "I'm not so sure anymore." Kaylee grips his hand and gives it a squeeze. 

"It's nuthin' to be ashamed of," she says, which of course Kaylee would say. She tries, but Simon doesn't think she ever really gets it. Kaylee is just so comfortable in her own skin, and with other people's skin, too, for that matter. Simon sighs. 

They are sitting on their shared bed in guest quarters on Atlantis. It's a nice room, spacious, especially compared to the cramped quarters he's grown accustomed to. This room, this city, is more like those of the central planets. 

"In fact," Kaylee quirks an eyebrow. "I wonder if a person could get a hold of some of this sex pollen. Might come in useful." She leans in and runs her hand up Simon's leg. "Might make things pretty exciting. And that McKay fella, he's pretty attractive." 

"Oh dear," Simon manages. "Er. I don't think that's such a good idea." 

"No? Really? He's better looking than you think he is, you know." 

"He's still—he's still a man!" 

Kaylee thwacks him on the arm. "You're so narrow-minded sometimes." 

Simon looks away. They've had this argument before, and he's tired of it. 

"Fine, not McKay," Kaylee says. "But what about Jennifer?" 

Simon starts. "Doctor Keller? You're not serious." 

"Oh ho! Yes I am." 

_Gorram fracking hell,_ Simon thinks. If anyone could manage it, Kaylee could. And he's more excited by the thought than he'd ever admit to anyone. Which means – which means – but Kaylee's stroking higher up his leg, reaching under his shirt, and – 

The little earbud they gave him buzzes suddenly, rattling against the nightstand. Simon sighs and gently pulls her hand away from his skin. "Hunh. How do I – " 

Kaylee huffs out her breath and helps him fix the radio in his ear. 

"This is Doctor Tam here," he says, feeling awkward and like he's shouting, which he is. "Go ahead." 

Someone is _screaming_ on the other end, and it sounds like Doctor McKay. All he can make out is "mind" and "very" something..."personal?" and "River" and "wrath?" and _River_. 

\---

Zoe hasn't been in the gateroom since their arrival. She can count the other places she _has_ been on one hand: her quarters, the pier where Serenity sits and inside the old girl herself, the shooting range with Ronon (who is quiet and smolders mightily at her and she still finds herself thinking, _But Wash, he's so YOUNG_), the mess, a planet where Ronon and Sheppard introduce her and themselves to primitive folk with rocks and sticks for defense. 

She's starting to lose track of Mal and the others. It worries her suddenly. She hadn't realized how accustomed she was to nearly knocking into everyone inside the ship, everyday, constantly, maddeningly. It's this that drives her to seek out Jayne – JAYNE, who's busy telling dirty stories with a couple of young, puffed-up looking soldiers – and convince him to join her in the mess. They're on their way when a team of Marines bowls past, and Jayne runs off after them like an overgrown puppy. Which is how she and Jayne end up in the gate room for the clusterfuck. 

The gate is alive and blue, and when Ronon comes through she has to notice how good he looks, so at ease even as they're coming in hot. 

McKay comes through next, near purple-faced and howling bloody murder and dragging River with him, his arm around her protectively (good). He and Sheppard shout at each other and at Ronon. Zoe's hand automatically grabs for her gun, but it's not needed. The gate closes with a swoosh. People are yelling but for what she can't tell. There's a swarm of people on the floor by the gate—Woolsey, a medical team, marines, and there's Mal, running into the fray, Simon close behind him. Even if River wasn't upset before, that many people around her are like to drive her frantic. Zoe stays where she is, watchful-like, and leaves her hand hovering over her gun. River shrieks and doubles over, her hands on her ears like they're trying to block out sound. Simon's there, gripping her hand, and she's shuffled off to the infirmary. Zoe follows, falling in beside Ronon and Mal. 

"Planet with psychics and seers, one would think they'd take to River," Zoe says. 

"No so much," Ronon answers. "They said something or other about Wraith contamination, and chucked us out." 

"Poor kid," she says. 

There's not much she can do here, looking on from outside the infirmary, where Simon and Keller are arguing again, and River's still shrieking. Inara's there, and that McKay fellow who seems loud but trustworthy. Zoe's never much liked sick bays, and she's useless here anyway. "I'll be in the mess," she tells Mal, and turns away. 

Ronon follows her out. 

\---

"This is the best of the beer from Earth," Ronon says in that low, low voice of his. 

Zoe still can't quite wrap her mind around that one—Earth that was. That is, here and now. A step through a Stargate, and there it is. Maybe she'll see it someday. She picks up a beer and joins Ronon at a bench on an open balcony, the breeze blowing in over the ocean, the light from the sinking sun gilding Ronon's hair. She feels her body relaxing, the tension from earlier falling away. 

"I can see why you like it here." She leans back, half-closes her eyes, and whatever it is about this place makes the talking easier, because she starts to tell him about River and the rest of the crew. She edits out the scary parts—River killing people on Maidenhead is a story that doesn't need to be told, not yet anyway. She talks about the home they've made for themselves, the family. She talks just a little bit about the people she's lost: Book, and then Wash. 

"That's a fresh wound," Ronon says, looking at her knowingly. 

"Yes." 

There's silence for a few moments before he says, "I lost my wife on Sateda. Twelve years ago." 

"You're not as young as you look, then," she says. 

"People get married young here. But no, I'm not. I was on the run for seven years before I came here. That was a whole lifetime." 

Zoe nods and takes a swig of the awful drink they call beer. "You're nothing like my husband," she says without thinking. 

"Yeah?" 

It's true and not true—Wash was as brave as any of these people, as strong. But she doesn't want to think about that now. She looks at Ronon for a long moment, and he meets her gaze; his eyes are steady and amused and interested. He reaches up with one steady hand and touches her hair, her cheek. She leans into the touch, and leans forward to kiss him. He's gentle, careful, willing to go where she leads. Zoe's more than OK with that. She plans on taking her time. 

\---

Woolsey's in the infirmary on the heels of the medical team. 

"You've got to let me examine her, Dr. Tam," Keller says. "You don't know anything about the Wraith– " 

"And you don't know anything about _her!_" 

"That's why I need you to calm down and help me!" 

_All in a day's...day,_ Woolsey thinks. How can he work this out logically? "You can brief me here and now about what happened," he snaps at McKay and Sheppard. "No arguments." 

The two men are standing very straight, and McKay's clutching his laptop like a shield over his chest. 

"What's the problem?" 

"Nothing!" McKay snaps as Sheppard grates, "It's fine." 

Woolsey's taken aback. He crosses his arms and straightens his own spine to match their militant posture. "Well? What happened out there?" 

"You've read the mission reports from our initial visit to the Vedeenans," Sheppard says.

"Yes, yes." 

"Well..." Sheppard rubs the bridge of his nose. "Turns out they communicated with River and she – well, she – " 

Something shatters behind Woolsey, and River whimpers. 

"She was in our heads," McKay says brusquely. "She was in all our heads – our minds – at once. I must say I'm surprised I didn't notice any sort of intrusion what with my ability to process so much information simultaneously – " 

"I did," Sheppard cuts in. "It felt sort of like a poking, at first." 

"What? Why didn't you say something?" 

"I didn't know what it was! Christ, McKay, just – " 

"So she's a psychic," Woolsey murmurs. His mental file on _Tam, River (approved visitor)_ thickens. "All right, all right. And then what happened?" 

McKay squinches up his mouth in a tight line. Sheppard sighs. 

"The Vendeenans started – freaking out, saying she was a Queen, a Wraith. That they could feel the Wraith in her, through her. And she was talking, but not to them, and not to us."

McKay snorts. 

"Not _to_ us," Sheppard continues, glaring. "But it didn't make much sense. Bits and pieces." He swallows noticeably. "Um. But we saw things - pictures, well, thoughts. Images. I almost couldn't tell the difference at first, but it was like we were all linked through her, in her head or something. And I saw, er, some pretty private things that _I_ wouldn't ever have dreamed up, but I'm not sure how to differentiate - " 

"Oh, please," McKay says nastily, "I think we could all tell whose thoughts were whose. Even when hosted in the brain of a seventeen-year-old." 

"Yeah, I think we all could tell which were yours, Rodney." 

McKay flushes. Woolsey sighs and chooses to ignore it. "Do you think it was malicious, then? Fishing for information? We don't know anything about these people - " 

"Didn't feel that way," John says. "It was kinda like a surface skimming, just what we were thinking at the time." 

It's at that moment Teyla's voice comes over the radio. "John; Mr. Woolsey?" Woolsey looks at Sheppard, who nods. 

"Go ahead." 

"I'm sensing Wraith presence again. It is much stronger, and – " 

"Yes, yes," Woolsey overrides her. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Sheppard inch toward Dr. McKay, who responds by shifting a good pace to the right. "I think we might have an answer to the presence you've been sensing, if you'll consent to meet us in the infirmary." 

"Mr. Woolsey. I sensed a familiar presence this time, almost immediately as we returned from the Vendeenans' homeworld. I meditated in an attempt to learn more about this presence – " 

Sheppard and McKay explode, and Woolsey has to momentarily yank his earpiece because stereo is just too much. 

"JESUS, Teyla!"

"Don't you remember – " 

" – threw Carson across the room – " 

" – we stunned you! And the drilling station – " 

"Ha, Ronon still gets pissy..." 

"_I meditated,_" Teyla repeats, "with Major Lorne on guard, and I know what is coming for us, for Atlantis, though I do not know why. It is a hive ship, and I believe it holds – " The radio erupts into a burst of static. Teyla is breathing heavily, and is she _running?_ Woolsey hopes, cravenly, that she's running toward them. 

"Mr. Woolsey!" Chuck cuts her out with priority channel. "Sir, we've got darts above the city." 

_"What?"_ Woolsey chokes. "But – the shield – how can they know – "

Teyla's voice is as flat as stone. "_Michael_." 

\---

River not so much runs as flies, all-out, hair streaming behind her, a look of determination on her face. Graceful and strong, a little frightening. Simon of course runs after her, and of course fails to catch her. She makes it outside the permeable walls of the city, dodging the marines who try to stand in her way, shoving a few of them aside and down. Simon watches from fifty paces (and falling) behind her, his breath heaving and his lungs starting to burn—gorram asthma, which he hasn't felt in years—and he watches as River runs along the East pier, watches as she gets sucked up into the light. Watches her disappear, again, while he stands helplessly by. The darts shriek and fly off, taking his sister with them. 

Simon finds a wall to brace his arm against and tries to control his breathing. He's gasping already, fuck. _Weak again_. The minutes stretch, and all of Simon's worry and thoughts focused down onto one goal: air.   
Five failing breaths, ten, fifteen, and finally a medic grabs his arm and calls for help. 

A mere twenty minutes after that, and Simon's lying in an infirmary bed. Doctor Keller gives him an inhaler and leaves him alone.

Simon could berate those around him for failing to protect River. He can't help but feel like a failure himself, too much of the time, these days. But the truth is, the truth... she'd been running toward something, not away from the city. She ran the way she'd run toward those Reavers, meaning to give her life to save her family. And now she ran toward another enemy, like she knew something none of them did.

\---

_They're coming they're coming again here too the hands go everywhere AGAIN AGAIN_

The scream reverberates in her head, and Teyla goes down hard in the hall, but she still can feel her feet pounding against the floor, the wind against her face. Her previous sense of _Michael_, the taste-memory of his bitterness that sits in the back of her throat; it has been muted somehow. 

She realizes that there are marines around her, and that someone is carefully cupping her head, but meanwhile she is a passenger with someone else – someone who cuts through defenses as though they were straw and throws herself outside into the sharp cool air, out onto the pier, out toward the shrill noise of the darts – 

"River?" Teyla asks, and passes out. 

She wakes up in one of the stiff infirmary beds with John, Rodney and Woolsey peering at her. 

"Give her some space," Jennifer says, and Teyla winces. 

"I heard her," she says. "She was screaming – screaming – I believe I can still feel her." 

\---

The swathe of bluish light siphons her up and into a space or negation of space, an utter lack of light or color. She tries to flex, but she cannot move mentally; she has become a stationary, blockaded consciousness. It is a blend of the absolute exhausted peace she feels when she slips into drug-aided sleep (no chance for dreams) and of the hideous waiting she remembers from her days at the Academy – the waiting to discover whether or not she was actually conscious (the dreams the dreams where she couldn't tell what was real, what was dreaming, what was live like a millipede and what was dead and full of maggots) and she will not think of that, so she tests the corners of her prison. 

She realizes she cannot feel her limbs, either. She is a mind packed in a box, then? But she cannot push her thoughts past the boundaries; she is in Simon's cryostasis again, full of icy, sleepy fog and she can't touch anything. But she can think – she's not trapped away yet she can think she can think she will think. She remembers the light, the sharp shrieking whine as it passed over her or she passed into it; she does the math, she follows the lines. 

_Abduction. Neutralized. Holding cell. Simon's not here. Dematerialization? Should result in a seventy-two point three three three three percent chance of rematerialization. Poor formulas, discordant genius. Compulsion is the nature of man. Of human. Therefore I, human, am compelled. _

Compelled to run into the light, yes, all right. She has gained patience, if not space of movement. She can't wait forever without going mad mad mad, but she can be quiet and patient _(Little Mouse)_ until then.

\---

John goes straight to his quarters and locks the door without any real justification. He knows they'll find her, and he will be there with grenades and bullets and knives when they do; but the Wraith aren't the type to send out a ransom note or even an ear (which, wow, he had a lot more respect for Malcolm Reynolds after hearing that story). So until Rodney and Radek and Teyla work out a tracking device based on the vagaries of psychic phenomena, he's stuck cooling his heels and mentally revising the attack plans he worked out with Lorne and Woolsey. 

Waiting sucks. He goes to the fridge and opens it to reveal near-empty racks except for a bottle of juice – time to put in more "requisitions" orders at the mess or on the Daedalus. He takes the juice and sits on the edge of his bed to drink it. Waiting should mean focus, unconscious preparation, and yet – unfortunately – all he can think about is – is – _damn it_. 

Johnny Cash glowers at him with scary movie-portrait eyes, a vengeful judge of the foolhardy, the weak, and the cowardly, and all John can say in response is, "Shut up." Times like these, a guy needs support not censure, even if it does come from the best country rock singer of all time. 

He slipped. Sure, the guy's got a great ass. Sure, he checks it out on a regular basis. Sure, he'd felt the girl poking away at his thoughts not knowing what it meant until he saw his own darting zoom-in focus on Rodney's ass, thighs, and hair in River's mind, open for viewing, and his mental commentary ("_Mad scientist hair is pretty hot. He looks at mine all the time, too; maybe it means he's interested? Putting aside the fact that he always looks at women, of course..._") coming out in her high-pitched voice. Creepy porn ventriloquism. Okay, creepy twelve-year-old crush ventriloquism. He shudders. 

Still, he thinks as he drinks, while it was kind of ego-crushing to see Rodney's reaction of Back The Fuck Up and Stay The Fuck There, he's a little relieved. A relationship with Rodney would be messy. Hell, _friendship_ with Rodney is messy enough. Sex with Rodney would be messy in the best possible way, messy and rough and pushy and maybe – and, great. He's hard. Again. 

He rubs a hand against his crotch and debates the merits of jerking off versus sleeping for however long he's got, and in the middle of it (his hand inching down his pants) he thinks he hears a small scuffling in the hall outside his door. He gets up and walks toward it and he's almost there, his hand poised over the crystal mechanism, when he hears "Unresponsive piece of shit" and his doors woosh open to reveal Rodney: irate, scowling, and only a few inches away. It's lucky John's good on the fly. 

"Rodney," he drawls. "Last I checked, knocking's still polite in this galaxy, too." John is suddenly aware that his little debate should've been about showering and changing clothes, because he can smell himself. Unless that's Rodney. That thought turns him off and on and he wants to beat his head against the wall. 

"John." Rodney looks nervous. Not a good start. 

"So what's the situation? Did you make it work? Can we track her?"   
"What? Oh. Yes, yes, of course I made it work – your teams are scanning the gates we picked; Teyla and Inara are meditating in sickbay under heavy guard and the care of Jennifer and Si – Doctor Tam. Er. And everyone else is just jumpy. We're waiting." 

"Ah." John wants to jump him. He steps back into his quarters and, remembering the juice bottle in his hand, throws back his head and drains it. He sighs, wipes his mouth, and sees that Rodney has followed him in. The doors close. 

"So," Rodney says, looking at Johnny Cash and looking away just as quickly. "I wondered – that is, I wondered if you wanted to talk about. You know. That whole ridiculous mind-reading business." 

John swallows. No, he doesn't, not particularly. He especially doesn't want to hear a confessional repeat of River's earlier information burst. "_He's so pretty. He's so different so new but he seems uninterested outside the realm of experimental pollen-based aphrodisiacs wonder if I could get another sample of that stuff ethics eh ethics schmethics I'm horny as hell these people will never accept technology unless they have a vision about it and then they won't understand it hungry hmm meatloaf and some kind of Athosian oat bread for lunch_" and on and on and the dazzling slideshow of Simon's ass, Simon's mouth, Simon's strange otherworldy glasses and clothes and manner; until she switched over to Ronon, and then to him. God. 

What comes out is, "Only if you want to talk about it." 

"Hmm." Rodney turns and does something complicated with the inside door crystal until it chimes and turns red. His face is red, too. "We don't have to _talk_ about it. We could – um – you know – " 

_Fuck._ "Forget it? That's cool. No problem." We need to keep the working relationship steady, you're into that guy from another universe, understandable, I still want your ass but I _am_ fucking military, I have _some_ sense of discipline here – John's trying to work out a way to say all of these things without saying them when Rodney makes a disgusted noise, charges into him and kisses him. 

His face is still flushed and it's hot against John's. But Rodney's got too much nervous momentum and it propels them backwards onto the floor, which would be sexy but the floors are damn _hard_. John feels like a fainting damsel for saying "Ow!" since Rodney's usually the one to whine, but Rodney's also never been one to pay much periphery attention when he's focused on something, so John's _Ow_ is smothered and swallowed and licked out of his mouth, and God, he'd suspected it'd be so good and his suspicions are always _right on_. Rodney's mouth is so damn mobile, he should've expected that but it's still a surprise, how good it is to kiss Rodney. Rodney is heavy and broad and his hands are surprisingly gentle, pushing up under his arms, pressing up over his shoulders, his neck and into his hair, and John can't take it. He rolls them over, kisses away Rodney's own exclamation (it sounds something like _sneaky fucker!_) and humps his leg helplessly while Rodney arches up against him and he can feel Rodney's dick straining through his pants, rubbing against him, against his, Jesus, _yes, Christ, there –_ 

He kind of blanks out when he comes, and collapses on top of Rodney, who he vaguely hears cussing a blue streak. There is a soft tug on his hair and he looks up into Rodney's narrowed blue eyes. 

"Hello, could use a little help here?" 

"Right." He feels loose and drowsy as he undoes Rodney's pants, and wraps his hand around Rodney's thick, hot cock and jerks him and strokes him and finally gives in to his own utterly selfish wishes and goes down on Rodney. John licks fast up the length of him, sucks in the soft leaking head, and Rodney doesn't last ten seconds in his mouth. 

As usual, it's all good at first – John strips off his clothes (god, coming in his pants like a kid) and drags Rodney into bed with him, and they curl around each other. Rodney's like a furnace, warm and soft and cozy. Rodney's talking, and it's really soothing, and John thinks maybe this regressive behavior isn't so bad because he can feel himself getting hard again, and that's when he tunes in to some of what Rodney's saying:   
" – just great – I never would have been so obvious if I knew you – Jesus, but they're just all so attractive, and even if it was only the sex pollen he's still – still, well, _look at him!_" 

John rolls onto his back. 

"But besides, I slept with Kaylee not long ago, and I don't think that'll make him happy. But _she_ came on to _me_. I couldn't do anything! I was helpless against a pretty lady and pretty if somewhat rundown engine!" 

"Wait, what?" John rubs a hand over his face, and considers – nope. There's no tactful way to ask. "Rodney. How many of the – uh – new arrivals have you slept with?" 

"Well," Rodney considers it. "Not all of them. And it depends on what you mean by sleeping with someone." 

John stands, pulls on his wrinkled BDUs, scruffs a hand through his hair, and ties up his boots. When he's almost to the door Rodney asks, "Where are you going?" He sounds honestly confused. 

John stops, gives Rodney his very best fuck-you glare, and says, truthfully, "I'm going to ask Teyla to beat the shit out of me." 

He stalks out the door before Rodney can respond, and before he remembers that they were in _his_ damn quarters and Rodney should be the one to leave.

\--- 

"Wellnow, what in the hell's wrong with taking up Serenity?" Mal asks. Sometimes he can't stand the way they do things here – sit in cushy chairs around a shiny table and drink coffee, _discussing_ things like there's no gorram clock ticking here. 

"We've worked out a plan of attack, Captain Reynolds," Mr. Woolsey says huffily. "It's very kind of you to offer to risk your ship, but you must understand the type of warfare we engage in in this galaxy. Serenity has no defensive capabilities whatsoever."

"You're forgetting Jayne. Listen, I understand the need for a plan," Mal says. "It gives me powerful pause as to why implementing it seems to take you all so much time." 

Teyla puts a restraining hand on his arm. "Mal. Please. Rodney and I are working as quickly as we can." 

Her voice is so soothing, her proper, careful cadence and pronunciation reminds Mal daily (and nightly) of Inara. He feels a twinge of desire, and sits on it – it's inappropriate right now. He turns away from Teyla, just a little, but she gets the message and moves her hand off his arm. 

"Look, no offense to you and yours, but my ship ain't made to sit in dry dock. She needs to fly. And more importantly, one of my crew is missing, and I've no mind to sit here on my hands while you finish your plans."

Woolsey sighs. "It's not as if I can stop you," he says. "But please, hear us out. We do have much more experience with the Wraith than you do. Rest assured that we want your crewmate back as much as you do." 

"Pardon me if I don't quite believe that," Mal says. He turns and leaves, calling on the radio for Zoe and Jayne. 

"Wait, wait!" It's the obnoxious one, McKay, chasing after him. "Look, please. I can get River back. I know it might not show, I mean, ask anyone, I don't show it ever - but I like her, really; we all do. We're better off working together on this one." 

"If working together means we sit here jawing on at one another, I think my crew's better off alone." 

"Jawing on – at one another," McKay repeats faintly. "How, er, salty." His gaze darts back toward the conference room where, Mal notices, Sheppard is conferring with Woolsey. "Er. But that's not the point! You won't _be able_ to work alone, you need some way to track her, and we have to work on a way to adapt our technologies – "

"Teyla can sense her. If she's agreeable, I'll just take her." 

McKay snorts, but it's not a mean sound. "I hear you." His eyes widen. "I mean. Not that I'm interested – well, _everyone's_ interested, but I'm, well." 

Mal can't help laughing at him, but McKay's snapping his fingers like crazy. 

"Listen. Prep your ship and your crew. I've gotta – it might work if we – hmm." He turns and flails his arms at Teyla. "Can you come back to the lab with me?" And they're gone. 

\---

Rodney tells them he's figured out how to make his device portable to Serenity, and he maps out the details to John, Teyla, Mal and Zoe. Teyla is confused. 

"But why Serenity?" Teyla asks. "Obviously I will be with you and Colonel Sheppard in the jumper."

She thinks that John looks uncomfortable, but he's interrupted by Rodney, who's oblivious as usual. "Er, no you won't." Rodney pokes at a connection. "Woolsey negated that one - you're too close to the whole Michael situation as it is and he doesn't want to give him another crack at a non-pregnant you." 

Teyla can't believe it. "He said nothing of this to me. When were you planning to tell me?" 

Rodney has the grace to look penitent. "Um. This is a ridiculous operation, if you haven't noticed. I mean, no one even knows if we can use your psychic reading of River to actually find her. And since you can feel her still, Woolsey wants us to get as much information from here - since Serenity can't fit through a gate and is pretty far from hyperspace capability, ha -" 

"Look, you have to think about. Things," John interjects, shifting. "Things that weren't an obstacle before, like Torren. You don't want to leave him without a -" 

"This is _not_ about Torren, John, do not pretend it is. We have discussed him before." She's so angry she can barely see straight, and that will not do, she must calm down. She breathes carefully. They cannot deny her this chance to meet Michael again as an equal, without restraint or the life of her child at stake. They _cannot_. She feels Mal move closer beside her. 

"I know you what you want," John says softly. "But we've got to concentrate on a rescue first." 

Rodney explains what she needs to do, but Teyla only hears bits and pieces. Mal and Zoe are nodding, something about hooking her up to his and Radek's magical psychic connection coordinates machine and how the jumpers will follow the signal she puts out and how she'll be in the hot seat as the only connection River will have, which is why Serenity needs to stay behind, which is what Teyla still doesn't understand. Why? They distrust her? John does not, Rodney does not. Perhaps Woolsey worries she might fall to Michael? 

She feels a hand on her arm. It's Zoe, who gives her a deep searching look. 

"Trust me," Zoe murmurs. "You won't sit this one out. Captain's always got a plan, and it don't include waitin' in the black."

\---

John suits up in his quarters. His wrists ache from punching the bag in the gym - it was definitely nowhere near as satisfying as having a stick fight with Teyla. But he wasn't about to have a fight with her now, after putting his foot in it like that. It's a good thing Teyla tends to forgive her team anything. He swaps out his BDUs and after a thought, balls up the crusty ones and tosses them into the back of his closet. 

He meets his and Lorne's teams in the jumper bay, and almost guffaws when he sees the entire crew of Serenity waiting for him, because it's hilarious how the ratio of BDUs to sexy alien leather has dropped considerably since their arrival. Rodney and Radek are making last-minute, profanity-laced modifications to the two jumpers. He clears his throat, and Rodney shoots him a sharp, penetrating look before saying, "We'll need to test proximity in space before we follow Teyla's lead." 

_Straighten up, John. Let's get this show on the road._ "Radek, you're with Major Lorne's team. That is, if you two are finished messing around?" 

"Oh, right, because it's such a no-brainer operation, feel free to jump in anytime - " 

"Enough gab," Mal Reynolds says, and John tries to hide his grin. "Let's get this show on the road, people."

They climb aboard the jumpers, and he takes a head count - a count of how many to bring home (plus one), no excuses, an old habit. Mal, Zoe, Jayne Cobb, Kaylee, Inara, Simon, and Teyla to drop off for Serenity; Lorne and three marines in Jumper Two; and in Jumper One he's got Mehra, Ronon, and Rodney, who's already firmly ensconced in the shotgun seat and fiddling with the connection to the main screen output. He can smell him - Rodney hasn't changed, or hasn't had time. He has a flash of fucking Rodney up against the jumper wall, or maybe going down on him where he's sitting, or just kissing him again, and John throws himself into the pilot's chair with something akin to hysteria. Simon isn't in yet; he's still double-checking his medical bag.

"You coming, Doctor Tam?" John asks by way of distraction, and annoyance. It's a pretty piss-poor joke, and by the way Simon curls his lip, John can tell he thinks so, too. 

"She's my sister, Colonel." 

\---

_Wake up, River Tam._ 

The words rattle in her brain like bees, and River comes fully awake. She refuses to open her eyes, but she can still collect information about her surroundings: it is cold. She is lying flat on something hard and cold. The air is viable but dank and heavy; the smell is intensely clinical with something unclean lingering underneath (a mortuary, a madhouse); the sounds are vague echoes of clatters, clicks and chitterings. It sounds like beetles run wild in a science lab, and the thought makes her skin crawl. She can move her brain around, sense other consciousnesses, but her limbs are restrained with wide, flat strips of material. It doesn't matter. She can feel her body again and that is enough to make her smile. 

_You are...happy?_ 

The buzzing in her brain sounds confused, and more sharp-edged than it had at first. River wonders if the straps are the only things holding her down, or if whoever has taken her has planted suggestions, has already turned her against herself. No, no, no, not again. She squeezes her eyes shut, tight. 

"Why don't you talk with your mouth? Do you talk in slithers? Or do you click like a bug?" 

"I can talk as humans talk, River Tam. Why don't you open your eyes?" 

She does. He waits still and cold beside her in the flickering shadows, clad all in leather, his face marked with small holes. She is on a table, and she is surrounded by more tables, and those tables are piled with lab equipment, cables, screens full of scrolling greenish runes. Silent masked figures stand behind the collected jumble. She follows each cable, smells each Wraith _drones they're called_. She feels him attempting to read her, and laughs. "No-no. That's private." 

"Don't be foolish. I've more than enough information about you, River Tam. The Wraith have many associates in many universes." 

"Really?" Without further preamble she pushes into his mind. She feels his mental knowledge of her invasion, and his razor attempts to drive her out, but he won't he won't not until she sees what's behind the circle, the light, the _stargate – _

"You're called Michael," she says, releasing him, her knowledge of him, of his work, of his dealings with Teyla, of his _associates_ and dabblings and available research, all of it a dark pooling horror in her mouth. "You're - you are not - the crawling things, the smoke, the worms - they're not in you - not as much. But you lost all your hair and the others didn't. Why?" 

_So many observations. Perhaps you are a scientist, like me._ 

He nods toward a corner to her right, and River turns her head to look. There is a chair with restraints, there is a table, and there is another pile of dingy, familiar-looking tech, printed with a familiar blue logo. 

_In any case, I find my short hair to be more efficient. _

She thought that to see again their equipment, their implements of torture would blitz her, turn her back into a gibbering child. But instead she feels focus returning; she's sure of herself at last, now that she knows. And she knows what she's going to do. 

"You won't get what you want," she says. "Nobody ever does."


	3. True Dawn

Old girl's looking better than ever on account of sitting in dock for ages, Kaylee thinks. She makes a minute adjustment to the newly installed equipment Radek helped her with.

"Your ship, it is halfway to hyperdrive already," he'd said. And it hadn't taken her long, though they haven't had time to test it. And Mal says they gotta stick with Sheppard's plan, which for them seems to be fly around to various floating gates till Teyla feels something, and then they sit tight while the jumpers investigate Teyla's read, and hopefully swoop to River's rescue.

"There's half-assed," Kaylee says, mostly to herself, "and then there's flying pell-mell half-assed."

"Eh?" Jayne grunts. He's there to see if she needs any help activating the crystal things. She waves an absentminded hand at him.

She tinkers around the humming, throbbing engine, and notices that she's humming along with it - she's missed this, being genuinely busy with a breathing ship. She hadn't even realized she'd lost it. If she's honest with herself (and Kaylee's always been a right stickler for honesty if nothing else), she knows she doesn't want to go back to Atlantis, no matter how big the rooms are nor what the food's like, not if it means losing this.

She wonders why Mal never says, why no one ever says anything about getting back to their own 'verse. She wonders if it's silly to wonder. Zoe's got a handle on the situation and a handle on the hunk Ronon. Jayne's running amok with soldiers and also (strangely), Halling the Athosian. Inara's always been open to new experiences - being a Companion, she oughta be. Simon's worried about River... _Simon_. She rubs grease off the engine frame and thinks on him, and on the straitlaced Jennifer Keller, and reckons maybe she could stay awhile, as long as they didn't take _Serenity_ away from her. But hell, as long as Mal's about, that day would never dawn.

\---

_Damn creepy_, Zoe thinks. They're all supposed to sit there and watch Teyla to make sure nothing untoward happens. Zoe leans back against the copilot's seat and tries to get used to the feel of the stunner in her hands. It's bulbous and sleek and nowhere near as comfortable as her little sawed-off.

Inara spreads a soft velvety blanket over the floor and presses electrode pads to Teyla's chest, then helps her slip a headcap over her hair. It's full of protruding wires that snake in a giant tangle over the floor to Rodney's console box, which is propped against the helm. Mal's commandeered her radio, and Zoe thinks he looks strange and robotic with the tiny piece poking out of his ear.

"No need to shout, McKay," he says. "I do believe we're ready and waitin'."

Inara kneels on the blanket and guides Teyla into her cross-legged meditation position. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Teyla's answer is immediate. "Please. Stay with me."

Inara smiles and squeezes her hand, and Zoe feels like she's intruded on something mighty interesting. Teyla nods. "I am ready. Please tell Dr. McKay to proceed."

"What's that?" Mal says to no one. "Oh. Right." He turns to Zoe. "McKay says to touch the box and, I quote, think 'on.' That is, if you still got your magic touch."

The console box on the helm whirs and pulses a faint blue light, and Zoe's hard-pressed not to flinch away because who knows where she'll end up this time? She keeps her one hand steady and flat, and her other on the stunner. She watches Teyla's eyes close.

\---

Rodney configures something in the jumper's controls. "Okay, I'm receiving. Tell Teyla to, er, open up or feel around more or whatever."

Mal sounds amused. "Open up or feel around?"

John snorts. He thinks he hears Dusty snicker behind him.

"I meant her mind, you degenerate."

They hear Mal relay the order, and Rodney does something on his laptop that makes the holographic console shimmer and reform into a border of small screens around a central star map.

"Look," Rodney points. "Physiological data on Teyla, her body functions, so we can monitor her, yes, hmm, and we can track her signal simultaneously." He pecks happily at the keyboard. "As soon as she does her Wraith seeking trick, Alfie should follow her thought patterns, pick up their intersection with River, and bam! We have pickup coordinates, thanks to the first-ever psychic tracking device, which, by the way, pretty much rockets to the top of my list of Nobel safeties."

"Nobel safeties," John says. "Your genius needs backup? Never mind. The more pressing issue here is Alfie?"

Rodney sputters. The console shimmers again, and this time a blue dot pops up in the field of stars and planets and spatial anomaly.

"There! There she is! I told you it would work!"

John examines the readout, and he feels a weird mix of sinking excitement in his chest. "Jesus, a few hive ships, huh?"

"I count fifteen," Ronon rumbles from behind, and Rodney glares at him.

"Yes, yes, fifteen little red glowy dots. Michael's done well for himself - "

"Look," John interrupts, "we can gate there now, covert-like, and scoop her up. We've gone over the plan, Lorne will run interference - "

He's shouted down.

"Sir, with all due respect - "

" - _fifteen_ hive ships, Christ, I knew you were insane, but this cements it - "

Mal comes over the radio. "How much longer we need to do this? I don't mean to be rude, but Teyla looks a mite peculiar."

"Describe 'a mite,' " Rodney snaps.

"She's talking up a storm. Don't sound like herself, don't sound like River anymore."

They can hear Teyla in the background now, her voice distorted and throaty.

"_I told you there was a connection between us_."

John slaps the console. "Well, shit."

\---

River feels the connection like a needle to the brain; sharp, delicate, cold even in this dank ship - and feminine.

_River? _ Teyla is in her head, her voice full of colors and so soft, a whisper brushing her ear.

It's then that Michael moves and oh he's faster than she thought. If Teyla is a fine sharp point in her mind, Michael is his whole blunt unwieldy self. He presses into her like a stifling hand over a mouth. Everything magnifies: the cold, the chitterings and clicks - her cheeks bloom with jabs of pain - the quiet nothing of the ship, the _corpse_ they're inside all around her, and River feels hunger past anything she's ever experienced, grafted-on foreign hunger that surpasses her lost childish desires for knowledge, for Simon's presence, for escape, for quiet. Her control, already slipping, falters under the groaning weight of this voracity.

Michael speaks through her, and the tiny sliver that is _Teyla_ trembles and winks out.

"No no no no no no." She gathers herself and pushes at him, but he has bolted himself in her mind and he laughs laughs laughs and looks looks looks everywhere. And she is babbling again. She's no longer better, she's back to being a muttering tool; how incomplete she was without a hand to govern her _hands of blue NO_ and she reads into him, because he's with her, he can't escape her looking either. He tries to jerk away but he's entrenched himself too deeply, too sure of himself, so she splays him out and opens him up quick as a surgeon.

What she sees is surprising.

"The hunger didn't stop."

_GET OUT my needs are attended to. I am no longer reliant on queens, on feeding -_

"No. You eat and eat and it's ashes in your mouth. You eat your offspring headfirst and it brings you no satiation, no fill, no revenge. You are weaker than you ever have been - and you dream of going back, of letting them make you forget again."

_GET OUT._

_No_. She slices into him with her finest blade: the diamond-clear memories from the Academy, and he howls. Hot anger surges through her, and she's got her own two hands on her mind again, and she's River River River.

Outside of her brain, the hive is shivering into action. Drones pile into the room, their funny guns pointing like spears at her face. She looks down. Her restraints are gone, her wrists are reddish in the cold light, and there is a smell of scorched skin in the air. Michael gasps on the floor in front of her, one hand pressed against his temple.

She reaches out to all the drones, deep into their mute sluggish thoughts connected to each other by thick strands, and before she can command them to put the spear guns down, a single thought blooms and thrums back at her.

_Queen_.

River laughs delightedly. "I was going to beat you all up," she says, and resolutely buries the desire away for later, "but this will be more efficient." She turns to the nearest drone. "Show me the helm."

\---

'We must go," Teyla rasps. "We must go to her. Michael - it was Michael, let me talk to John, let me - "

"Calm yourself," Inara says, and she undoes the headcap and tosses it away with shaking hands. "Mal?"

He frowns. "They're going through the space gate. But we've got their end coordinates. Kaylee? Fire it up. We're not sitting this one out, no how, no way. Inara - "

He moves toward her, and for a second she thinks he might embrace her. But he's the captain right now, and he settles a hand on her shoulder.

"The shuttle. You, Zoe, Teyla."

Zoe helps her guide Teyla (clumsy for the first time Inara has known her) out into the corridor and down onto the catwalks that lead to the shuttlecraft. Teyla groans and clutches at her, winding a hand up around Inara's neck, and Inara leans in and presses their mouths together.

"Kaylee. Today would be nice," Mal barks.

"Keep your shirt on," Kaylee crackles back, and Inara hears Jayne cussing in the background. "These crystals are confusing as all hell. I've got 'em set up like Radek said, and power's connected through the converter on our fuel cells, but nothing's happening." A rattling crash echoes over Mal's handheld as Inara drags Teyla into the shuttle and helps Zoe settle her on a chaise. "Damn hunk of _le se gou shi_," Kaylee snarls, "trinket trash, nuthin' more - oh, wait. Oh. One second."

Inara settles herself at the shuttle's controls as Serenity gives an almighty shuddering moan - and then the stark black of space cracks open directly in front of them into a spidering starburst of blue-white light. Inara gasps, but they're already inside the fissure. The walls of hyperspace streak around them, and it's impossible to tell how fast they're going, or whether or not Serenity can withstand the speed, she could be flying apart right now - Inara feels pressure on her shoulder, and realizes that Mal's gripping her tight.

"Just when I thought - there's been too many new experiences lately. I am now immune to fantastic sights."

She laughs shakily. "It's amazing. But how do we - how does Kaylee know when to stop her?"

His smile is huge. "Do I look like a gorram rocket scientist?"

\---

John cloaks as they come out on Michael's side of the gate. The space is thick with hive ships and he has a moment of indecision.

"So, how do we find her now? How do we use this thing now that Teyla's incapacitated," and his stomach clenches, and he tells himself to relax, because Teyla's okay, she's tough, she gave _birth_ on a hive ship for chrissakes, Michael got lucky and she probably slammed him right out.

McKay types furiously. "We've got her last known coordinates, which should put her, allowing for largest possible variables of movement - um. That hive there. River should be on there."

"All right, then." John flexes his fingers. "Major Lorne. Sending you coordinates. Initiate on my mark - "

There is a blaze of a hyperspace window opening.

"What _now_?" McKay yells. "Like we could have worse odds as it is - "

A ship, tiny against the burst of light, careens out of hyperspace toward them. John's jaw drops before he can tighten it. McKay gapes unashamedly, Ronon grins, and Dusty barges up to see. Lorne comes on, sounding perplexed.

"Uh, sir? Is this a part of the plan I missed? What the hell is Serenity doing here?"

"Didn't want to sit and wait," Ronon says. "I can get behind that -"

"Who gives a flying monkey's ass _why_ they're here," McKay bulls in, "what I want to know is how and _when_ they gave that bucket of bolts hyperspace capability - oh, oh, oh, Radek, you sneaky fucking Czech."

"Well, this is gonna be over pretty quick unless he loaded them up with artillery, too," John snaps. The hives are already gliding into defensive positions, and of course Teyla and Michael's connection must have warned him something was up, so their plan is screwed before they start. Not that it was the greatest plan, but hey, _Woolsey_ approved it. Any moment they'll launch the darts and open fire, and John's gotta do _something_ to draw them away from that defenseless little Firefly.

"We're going in anyway. Use your drones to distract them."

John fires a couple off, and they explode into the nearest hive. John banks hard and under and where are the darts? Now that he thinks about it, the hives aren't really making a formation of any kind; they're just flying alongside each other, really closely to each other, okay, now that's really close. He swoops out and over just as three hives converge on the same point in space.

"What the - ?"

The resulting blast - an inaudible blossom of fire; beautiful - nearly envelops them, and John thinks _what part of go go go don't you understand?_ and the jumper surges.

"I don't believe this," Rodney says. "The hives - now they're _firing_ on each other. And still no darts." He's got a lopsided, disbelieving grin on his face.

"Hell of time to have a disagreement," Ronon murmurs. "Can we watch?"

"In case you've all forgotten, we're attempting a rescue here," John says, but his heart isn't in it. It takes less time than he had previously suspected for fourteen hives to blow each other into teeny tiny pieces. Ten minutes, in fact. The explosions are so bright it's like a star dawning around some hidden corner of space. And at the end of it all, it's _Serenity_ and the jumpers and a tiny bug-like shuttlecraft and Michael's lone hive ship drifting almost companionably together.

John makes them go through the rescue op anyway. They land inside - no problem. They encounter no hostile, or breathing Wraith: the corridors are strewn with drone and worker bodies and slippery puddles of brackish blood. Rodney's scan shows two life signs, and they track the first one to the hive's helm.

"Hello," River says. She waves a hand at the gnarled walls, the bodies, the glow of display lights. "Can I keep it?"

\---

Inara pilots her shuttle into the hive, and then they search. It does not take long. Jayne is jumping at the bit with knives out when they come upon Michael, but somehow Mal stumbles him up, manages to hold him back, so Teyla can slip ahead and - yes.

Teyla realizes when she nearly falls under the onslaught of his grasping, cobwebby thoughts, and again later when she draws her knife across his throat; that being a mother, a protector to her son and first defense against any future harm that may befall him, has almost nothing to do with this killing. She shakes the blood off the blade and allows Michael's body to fall where it will.

She feels warm, too warm, but she is well. She feels whole.

\-----

So River saved herself (which is great. Really.) and after they convince her a hive ship might be good cover but a bitch to deal with, she allows Rodney to patch together a complicated self-destruct routine. They all gate back to Atlantis, except for the folks from _Serenity_. It takes them a few days to fly back, what with the blown-out hyperdrive and a nearly blown-out Kaylee, Jayne and Teyla. Simon rides back with them, doctor's perogative. Ultimately, John's never had a plan go this smoothly. He can't quite believe it. It's so unlike his normal luck and definitely unlike the Pegasus galaxy.

They get back in one piece, and Woolsey is upbeat at their first hail, and then positively giddy at the briefing with the crew of _Serenity_.

"You know, I _did_ have my doubts about the overall, ah, sturdiness of your plan, Colonel Sheppard. I can see I underestimated River Tam again."

John hightails it out of there before Woolsey can strip him of his command and pass it off to a minor (in America she is! They probably don't have such a concept in their wacked-out Earth-that-was cowboy universe, but too bad because they do here) and goes to his quarters to pass out. He strips off his clothes, takes the hottest shower the settings will give him, and wraps himself into bed naked.

An hour later, he still can't sleep. There's no real battle to play back, no near misses to contemplate, no chills of advancing Wraith to recall and dispel. Even Teyla's dispatch of Michael won't linger other than for its action-movie quality: sickly sweet and too easy, the near-vertical spray of blood that misted over her, her grimace, her face so cold while her eyes relaxed for the first time in months. He thinks she's okay. He'll check on her tomorrow first thing. But he thinks she's okay. Everyone seems to be okay.

Rodney's been working on the derelict ship ever since they got back. John knows because of the briefings, and because Lorne flies Rodney up there and ferries him back. Apparently they've got the boat in stable orbit, and Lorne's tapped some special (read: fuck-up) Marines to help him with the cleanup. They're jettisoning the bodies.

Lately Rodney hasn't spoken much to John; except when they run into each other in the mess or the gateroom. Maybe he's traumatized. Maybe he's annoyed. Maybe he's got some weird Trek antimatter disease that comes from screwing too many people not of your universe, and he doesn't want to infect John. Like John gives a shit, anyway. It's not like he hasn't had great sex before the most recent great sex, which was really, really great, his brain reminds him with a Technicolor array of sensory images. He sighs and gives his dick a reluctant pull, to which it responds happily.

He hasn't had a look at the ship yet. Maybe he'll go up tomorrow. Lorne mentioned the armory needs sorting out.

\---

"So," Simon says.

"So. You're finally back," Rodney McKay says absently, up to his elbows in control crystals and colored wires and charred paneling in the corridor outside the bridge, because if _Queen_ River is going to singlehandedly destroy the Wraith for good, she needs a ship (one that doesn't require a Wraith technician), and a lackey (preferably a genius who has billions of better things to do) to kick and hotwire and essentially rebuild its alternate universe ass into running complacency. As usual, his back aches, and somewhere there is a sandwich calling him - maybe several sandwiches, yeah. Dr. Tam's - _Simon's_ presence isn't really helping, either.

At least his genius insures he didn't have to be anywhere near that cargo bay Lorne described, or on blood mopping/body carting duty.

"Er," Simon says, and steps closer. "I know this probably isn't the best time - "

"Really?" Rodney rips out a connector so fried it crackles into dust under his fingers. "Because that would be an _understatement_, since I'm incredibly busy playing engineer AND genius for your sister, who I noticed is spending her time climbing the walls in there."

Simon coughs. "I'm sure she's only working out her next tactical maneuver."

Rodney turns to scoff and nearly brushes Simon's nose with his own, he's suddenly so close. "Er. Tactical situations. Right." He can feel the heat radiating off Simon's face as he blushes, or maybe it's _him_ that's blushing, and Christ, he's nobody's sweet little twink, he jumped John Sheppard less than, huh, a week ago? He's not sure anymore, god, he should _eat_ something -

"I think," Simon breathes, and Rodney sways, just a little, "I think - that is, Kaylee thinks, Kaylee and I, we were wondering, well, we were just talking - the point is, would you be interested - "

Rodney takes a sharp breath. "Interested in...?" He does his best _yes, please continue_ expression.

Simon looks suddenly stricken, scared. He shifts his posture, backing away a step; his expression just closes down. "If you're interested in working with River, teaching her. Becoming her mentor, basically. Advisor, I think is your term for it, if I'm understanding your culture correctly..."

Rodney exhales, disappointed. Of course, of course Dr. Tam wasn't thinking what Rodney was thinking... or was he?

Of course it's at that exact second that Sheppard's voice floats into the room. "Hey Rodney," and really, he's supposed to be in the ship's armory, or planning more masterful rescue plans with Lorne, and yet here he is, strolling down the corridor with Keller, who's toting an overstuffed medkit. "Not to interrupt, but I could use a hand rerouting the weapons diagnostics."

"So what do you want me to do about it?" Rodney asks. "Go find Zelenka or something."

"Zelenka's busy," Sheppard says, crossing his arms. Damn that slouch of his, Rodney thinks. Sheppard is so distracting. "This is really pretty important. Maybe not as important as getting the engine going, but we can't let our girl get out there and fire blanks. Oh, Dr. Keller here was looking for Simon."

Keller smiles at them. "Dr. Tam. Got a second?"

Simon steps away, and Rodney digs frantically through his pockets for gum, a powerbar, anything. He comes up with half a peanut butter sandwich (made with Pegasus-native peanut-like nuts) and stuffs it into his mouth. He keeps talking because with every inch Simon moves away, Sheppard advances toward him, and he is being presented with a revolving smorgasbord of hot and he is cross-eyed from close work and _hungry_. "I, uh, thought you'd warn us before you tried to do any engineering. Let us get a running head start before it all goes up."

"Har har," Sheppard mutters. "Seriously, come over here and look at these plans and I'll leave you alone, I promise."

"_Fine_," Rodney snarls half-heartedly. Jennifer and Simon have put their heads together over some datapad, and he wonders exactly what the hell he just missed out on? Something kinky, or at least a threesome? Something far from the realm of creepy voyeuristic beasts and exploding flowers, no doubt. He follows John into some room off the main corridor, and before the door latches behind him, he hears Simon say, "Kaylee's been asking me about you lately - "

And that's all he can process, because this room is empty except for a table: no Lorne, no laptop, no plans for any weapons or diagnostics or crackpot energy guns, and seriously, is he going crazy? But John's crept up behind him, his hand warm and sort of tentative on the back of Rodney's neck, and suddenly, crazy isn't looking so disappointing.

But he can't just enjoy it, because he is who he is, and damn it - "So you've decided it's okay that I'm an intergalactic strumpet? Even though you might catch the alternate universe clap? Did you bring space rubbers?"

"Yes on all counts," John murmurs, and before Rodney can properly respond to that, John kisses him.

He can't think coherently. John mutters against his mouth, "and he calls me Kirk," and Rodney wants to bristle at that, but he can't because John's mouth is hot and his hands are hard against his back, they're sliding down to cup his ass and trap his hips. The hips in question snap forward and John's rubbing him and it's so so beyond good and Rodney pulls back, gasping, because getting laid for the first time (okay, times, and mostly with aliens) since Katie doesn't make him _Kirk_ with all the accoutrements, right?

There's a crinkling sound, and John pulls out a whole _handful_ of condoms. "Space rubbers," Rodney repeats faintly. Only Kirk would have come prepared. "We - we have to talk about this - what this - this is - _oh God_ \- "

"Later," John grits out, and bends him over the table.

\---

Later:

"So, now? We really need to talk about this, what you're expecting of me here, because you were like a jealous - "

"Later. _God, right_ \- later."

"Why not now?"

"_Rodney_."

"Oh. _Oh_. Um. Right, later would be okay."

\---

"I suppose you want to examine River."

"Actually, no." Dr. Keller looks shy. "She passed this last checkup, so I'll clear her and she can start...saving the universe."

Simon smiles. "Would you believe a year ago...well, suffice to say, she's come an incredibly long way."

"You love her very much," Keller says.

"She's my only family in the world." Simon thinks for a moment of his lost family, his parents, the aunts and uncles who turned their backs on River, on himself. He shakes his head, looks back at Kaylee-- Keller. Jennifer Keller. Kaylee had teased him just this morning about confusing the two of them.

"I'm sorry," he says, and he can feel his throat closing up just like it did with Rodney, but he forces the words out anyway. "You're probably busy right now - "

"I'm not," Keller says immediately. "Er, that is. I'm always busy. But in this universe we have civilized things like breaks. Well, we're contracted to have them, occasionally - "

"Come to dinner later," Simon interrupts. "In our quarters. I mean, you don't have to eat in the mess every night?"

"Of course not." Keller smiles, and it's tentatively sweet, and shyer than Kaylee's. It makes Simon feel as though for once, he's more experienced than someone. "So. Later then."

\---

Later, he lets Kaylee get the door.

Keller is in civilian garb, which throws him at first. They are so similar, even if Kaylee's a bit softer and Keller is practically strangling the bottle of wine she brought. But she looks lovely in soft blue. Kaylee looks hungry and kind of reverent, the way she'd look at a plate of chocolate fudge.

"My, you clean up nice, dontcha! I hope you're hungry. Unless you'd rather work up an appetite first."

She runs a finger over the other woman's arm, and Keller drops the bottle. Simon retrieves it.

"Maybe we should let it breathe awhile," he says, and it's gratifying to see her eyes darken. Kaylee smiles and brushes back a strand of Keller's - Jennifer's hair. Simon sets the bottle down a little too hard. "If you want. That is."

 

Jennifer has just taken off her shirt when Simon imagines he hears the door chime.

"We're barely beginning, and you've made my ears ring." His voice sounds husky to his own ears. He reaches for Kaylee, but she's up and crossing the room with a blanket wrapped around her. "Where are you - ?"

The door slides open and Simon catches a glimpse of wild hair, a flash of glasses.

"Radek!" Kaylee squeals. "Come on in."

\---

River can feel the city even from space, while she orbits around the blue planet. It's a cold clear point, as Teyla was, cold and clean and silver bright somewhere beneath the pale gauze of atmo. She's glad it's there again, a morning star in her brain that will always bring her home. She didn't expect the ship to be so quiet, honestly. But the ghosts - the echoes, they calmed down after she named it. Woolsey got a strange look on his face when she told him, but he didn't say anything.

_The Revenge? Sounds like a pirate ship._

His thoughts are clear and delineated as ink strokes, and he wants to trust her, put her to work because "there's no defense like a good offense." However, Dr. Mckay on the bridge is like a Junebug in her hair. So she practices her vaults over equipment until he throws up his hands and huffs out. Then she settles down by the helm and starts the long tedious trawl through the wires and wires and wires, and she reads the crystal manifest Dr. Zelenka sent up, even though she can't activate them. She could radio for Zoe.

The doors slide open, and Teyla steps in. "I was told you were alone here."

River untangles her arms and stands. Teyla is still there in her head, a calm aura around the bright that is Atlantis. It is shot through with a tiny curl of smoke that whispers Wraith.

They don't make small talk. That's for the others, not for them. It still feels formal, though; like a church of two.

"I still sense Wraith, when I am near you." Teyla rests a hand on the handle of her knife, which is strapped loosely, almost carelessly to her hip.

River smiles. "And I feel it in you. Does that make us sisters?"

"Of a sort. I sense you as yourself as well." Teyla smiles back. "It does not taint us. If you like, I can teach you to meditate, so you may gain more control over what you sense, and more understanding of what it is to have Wraith heritage."

"I'd like that," River says. She feels as though she should curtsy, so she scuffs her boot instead. "Perhaps you can accompany me. I'm going to hunt them. Maybe talk. But probably just hunt and slaughter, take their ships, save the folks inside, blow them up. But I need a backup. I'd like to - I'd like a comrade in arms. Someone I can trust."

She can trust Teyla. She can taste it, feel already the burn of their battles beneath her skin, sweat, spinning, blades slicing, bullets, blood, breath, and for a moment the cold twinge in her mind swells into happy leaping abandon. Then Teyla steps back.

"Perhaps. Someday we may play at being queens together." She turns to go, and then stops. "In truth, I came to give my thanks. For allowing me to - "

She steps back, but the thoughts and images leap from her: _clean quick razor sharp across pale fluttering throat blood blood no more, no more for me_ and River reaches out, but remembers (always belatedly, gorram it) it's rude, it's unfair to show she's seen. Teyla's walls are still there.

"Do you not think...I have...we have had our revenge, yes? To name the ship so seems - bitter, somehow."

"Yes," River agrees. "But we _have_ it. She's named in honor of that."

\---

Woolsey plays with the silver loop. Sometimes he imagines it lights up, but it's only an optical illusion through the play of light on smooth metal. Zelenka brought it by early this morning with a baffled, sad shrug - and with such dark circles under his eyes. Woolsey hopes he's getting enough rest; perhaps he should arrange some time off for the man.

It's ridiculous. They have the best science team in two galaxies and they still can't solve this problem. And it is a problem. Woolsey still doesn't know what to do with these people, apart from River Tam, and technically none of them are under his jurisdiction, anyway. He's waiting until the last minute to send his latest databurst about the Tam Initiative to the SGC, because he can already hear the outcry over the unimaginable distance.

There are bigger fish to fry, Woolsey knows. Rodney's team has already found provocative things in Michael's datalogs - notes about a strange gate that blooms constantly and bleeds in and out of space, somewhere in a system at the other side of the galaxy. There are encrypted files, memos, official-looking transmissions, almost like the tentative, preliminary outlines of a treaty...

A tap on the glass door startles him, and he wheels in his chair and drops the loop on the desk. It's Captain Reynolds, for once alone and without his crew. Captain Reynolds, Zoe Washburn, Kaylee Frye, Simon Tam, River Tam, Ambassador Serra, Jayne Cobb - what the hell is he supposed to do with Jayne Cobb, for heaven's sake?

"Captain," he says. "We've got some things to discuss."

"That we do," Reynolds says. He gestures at the loop. "And still, I take it, all the time in the world to talk?"

Woolsey grimaces. "Unfortunately, yes."

Surprisingly, Reynolds smiles. "Wellnow. Isn't that funny? I'm starting to like it here."

\---

Zoe hasn't felt this light, this free in - in - well, she can't remember when. She sits on the edge of the pier and drinks it all in: The hard glitter of the city all around her. _Serenity_, docked for repairs just a hopskip away. Kaylee arguing with the scientists about something so technical Zoe's not sure _they_ know exactly what they're yelling about. Mal and Teyla sunning themselves a few feet away, while Inara plays some string-and-beads game with Torren. The cool drifting water against her feet. And the weight of the shadow that blots out the warm sun for just a moment, before Ronon eases himself down beside her.

She feels weak for a moment, pathetic and grateful. She doesn't know what future she lost back there in their 'verse. She doesn't know what awaits her here. Maybe Earth. Maybe children. Maybe nothing.

She looks at Ronon beside her, and she leans into his warmth.

Maybe something. But only if she can get him to cut his hair. It's a gorram tactical liability, lost culture or no.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Epilogue

All right already, he knows, he knows, she can kill him with her brain. But this is the first time he's ever felt in charge of something. Him, Jayne Cobb. The Man They Call Jayne. He's practically a Captain - though he doesn't mention this thought to Mal, ever. Mom would be proud, though.

She can read him, though, so she knows, but she doesn't taunt at him. She gives him these sweet little looks, like he's her new brother. Once she says something about Bellerophon, and when he snorts - _never going back to that paradise, rich men and their floatin' party houses, never had nothing like, never wanted nothing like_ \- she smiles, but it's sad, like he doesn't understand something important. Then she calls him Orion, which is just ri-gorram-diculous and makes even less sense. Hell.

Sometimes the ship seems so gorram big. Serenity never used to feel this big. It freaks him out, just a little. Space is bigger, too. Jayne's never been good at being alone, he needs a crowd to knock around with, or just knock around. It's funny being alone. Brings him back to Ariel, and that moment in the airlock.

He wonders if she'll try to slice him up again, or feed him to one of those vampires. He wonders if she might ... well, she's a reader, ain't she. She'll pick up on anything he speculates about.

He wonders if he can make it here, or if he should just grab Serenity and set out and see what he can find. He heard Mal talking about some folk named Travelers.

He pats Vera, and looks back into the stars. He'd say he's just waiting until the money's good enough, but he still hasn't found out what passes for currency in this 'verse.


End file.
